Chapter Text
The cold metal bench seeps through his jeans, the rain is coming down in buckets, and Percy Weasley is miserable. His red hair is plastered to his pale forehead because the crap umbrella he bought at the student commons earlier that morning is bloody useless. His pruny fingers are frozen in fists around the umbrella’s handle and his teeth have not stopped chattering for the past half hour. He’s going to catch a cold. There’s no doubt in his mind.
And why is he experiencing all this misery again? A football match? Ha! That can’t possibly be right.
But, unfortunately, it is. Percy Weasley is, in fact, out in the freezing rain watching people play a sport of which he never bothered to learn the rules, for a university he no longer attends, wearing an oversized jumper that was forced over his head this morning by the only person in the world that could make him do any of this nonsense! And as Oliver Wood blocks another shot on goal, keeping his team one point ahead with thirty seconds left on the clock, Percy Weasley is grinning from ear to ear.
Because he’s in love. Bloody sue him! (As a recently hired associate at The Law Offices of Padfoot and Prongs, Percy would suggest not actually bringing this case to court.)
The clock runs down with Oliver’s team still in the lead. His teammates swarm him until they make a big dogpile of soggy, sweaty men. It’s disgusting to watch, in truth. But Percy still can’t stop smiling. He tells himself it’s because the match didn’t go into overtime and he would be able to go back inside soon. And yes, that is fantastic. He also tells himself that he’s smiling because this win means the football season is officially over and he can return to not caring a bit about penalties and injuries and whatnot. And yes, this is also true.
But if Percy is being really honest with himself, the reason for the absolutely ridiculous grin he is sporting is the man wrestling himself out of the mosh pit and charging his way up to Percy’s side with a matching grin of his own. How Oliver has the energy after ninety minutes of strenuous exercise in the biting rain to sweep Percy into a twirling embrace that sends the useless umbrella flying out of his grasp in the wind, Percy has no idea. It surprises him to this very day that Oliver Wood never seems to tire when surrounded by a crowd of people. Percy is utterly exhausted and he’s only been sitting here.
Once Percy’s feet are firmly back on the ground, Oliver buries his face in the curve of Percy’s neck. Percy can tell that the man is weeping with joy. Three years ago, Percy would have laughed at the idea of someone so overcome with relief and happiness about winning a silly football match that they would actually weep. But that person Percy was who would laugh no longer exists. Oliver Wood has such respect for the game— and for life itself! That kind of respect does not warrant ridicule. So instead Percy pulls Oliver closer, his hands still balled into fist around Oliver’s broad back even though the umbrella he’d been holding is long-gone by now. He hugs him under the pouring rain, because…
Just because.
***
When Percy turns off the hot water, he is surprised to hear the kettle whistling in the flat’s tiny kitchen down the hall. He didn’t think he’d been in the shower that long. But what a glorious shower it had been.
Pulling on a pair of joggers and a wooly jumper that keeps slipping down one shoulder, Percy makes way down the hall into the kitchen, toweling his hair dry as he goes. He takes the kettle off the burner and opens the cupboard above the cooler that houses the flat’s somewhat dwindling supply of teabags. He pulls down a bag of green tea just as the front door jiggles open and a drenched and smiling Oli trudges in, dripping rainwater everywhere.
“Can I pour you some green, love?” Percy asks.
Oliver pulls a face as he peels his windbreaker from his skin like a suffocating man.
“English breakfast?” Percy tries again.
The front foyer of their little flat is now littered with sopping wet clothing that Oliver kicks into the corner lazily. “Ta’,” Oliver replies, the pleasant smile back on his face.
Percy loves that face. He does not comment on the wet clothes that will need to be removed from the fake hardwood floor eventually, sooner rather than later. But… maybe later.
The teas are poured, Oliver has returned from the bedroom in a bright red sweatshirt and long underwear that make him look far too adorable, and Percy Weasley is happy.
Oli takes a seat in the corner chair next to the radiator and warms his pruney hands. Percy brings him his tea and carefully curls himself into the man’s lap. Oliver hurumphs, but otherwise makes no sense of dissatisfaction with his current position. In fact, he spreads his legs to accommodate Percy better and curls a hand around his waist. They sip their tea quietly. Percy sighs and lays his head on Oliver’s shoulder.
“I love you,” Percy says.
“I love you, too,” Oliver hums as the radiator blows warm air on their cozy little corner of the living room.
“I’m so glad football season is over, though.”
Oliver laughs. “I know.”
Percy grins around the lip of his teacup. “Is it my turn then?”
“Of course. What is your obsession this Summer, love?”
Percy hums thoughtfully. He hadn’t really given it much thought, much to his own surprise. This was probably because last year’s obsession was Law School and becoming an associate at Padfoot and Prongs. It was nice to find that, since graduation, he had not been left bored without a new hobby to fill his every idle minute.
He glances around the small flat and considers the beautiful image of domesticity he and Oliver must make at this very moment with Percy curled up on Oliver’s lap sipping his tea.
“This is nice,” he comments aloud.
Oli’s grip on his waist tightens affectionately. “A lazy summer, then? That would be a first.”
Percy pecks his boyfriend on the cheek. “I’d be okay with that.”
Oliver chuckles. The radiator continues to hum and heat their cold, wet day away.
And Percy Weasley is content.